


Purple Hyacinth

by voxmyriad



Category: Watchmen (2009)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Kink Meme, Sex is definitely the enemy, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxmyriad/pseuds/voxmyriad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At a funeral, Adrian Veidt remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purple Hyacinth

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted forever ago as a watchmenkink@LJ fill and I only just managed to unearth it again. The prompt was "Adrian/Laurie. Make it hurt." So I did. I would say I'm sorry, but it would be a lie.

There are different kinds of pain.

He hadn't meant for it to hurt, in any of the ways it had, but in his defense, he hadn't really known it was _going_ to.

Raindrops should have been falling, running in rivulets over the mahogany casket, dripping off the yellow roses, making a sodden mess of the black velvet ribbons, but the sky was clear, a crystalline blue, the sun shining warmly in contrast to the dirty snow. Nothing had ever gone according to plan for her, had it?

He stared at the closed lid as the meaningless words of the service drifted past him. 1970, September, that's when he'd first met her. He'd talked to her mother on numerous occasions – Sally had gone after him like he'd been a talent agent casting a movie, and her daughter was the next big up-and-coming star – but it wasn't until the ill-fated Watchmen meeting that he'd met _her_ in person. Silk Spectre II. She'd been young, and eager, almost too eager. Not for the idea – he knew even then that she hadn't been standing there because she wanted to be – but eager for _him_. She'd made the first move, cornering him after the meeting, and it had surprised him. He'd wondered why, as it had seemed she'd had eyes for a different member of their nonexistent ranks, and he'd tried to let her down gently.

Too gently. He wondered now if he'd been too subtle on purpose, but regardless of his motivations, the attempt to turn her aside hadn't worked. The mask had stayed on. He'd moved to take it off, but she'd stayed his hand and shaken her head in silence before kissing him. She was hesitant at first, tentative, then bolder as her fingers moved into his hair, tracing the edges of the circlet he wore as Ozymandias. When she pressed against him he could feel the heat from her body even through the armor, and he responded without thinking. Zippers were pulled and some part of his mind noted that the familiar sounds of soft fabric were absent as the armor and latex were cast aside.

His fingers had found the heat between her legs and her soft, surprised gasp in his ear had told him what he wanted to know, even before a long finger had slid inside her and her body had stiffened at the unfamiliar sensation. He would be her first. He laughed low in her ear as she squirmed, trying to move back from his fingers while at the same time wanting, craving more.

When he'd entered her – a first for him as well, although he didn't feel she needed to know that – she'd cried out, her fingers tight on the wood of the desk, but he hadn't paused. She was slick and hot, and her muscles clenched around him as he took her from behind, a hand in her long hair, the other gripping her hip so hard he knew it would leave a bruise she'd have trouble explaining. It didn't take long before she was panting, pushing back against him, moaning his name, both his names, as he stayed silent. They were counterpoints, his relentless rhythm and her twisting, writhing body beneath him, desperate for more even as he refused to change. There was something about that he liked.

They didn't come together. His hitch in breath, a sudden tensing of his muscles, and a single whispered word were all the indications. His hand slid between her legs again and brushed her as he stopped moving. It was an experiment, more than anything. To see if he could manage it. It was always talked about as being so difficult to bring a woman to climax with only fingers.

It wasn't, as it turned out, and he felt a quiet satisfaction as she tipped her head back, eyes closed and lips parted in a wordless moan, her body shuddering, clenching for the last time around him. He stepped back and she half-fell onto the desk as her support was lost. He'd dressed again without a word, only a faint smile on his face. She'd watched him with glowing eyes that had slowly turned confused, then wary, then angry, and finally cold, and she hadn't moved as he'd disappeared out the door in a whisper of velvet.

He wondered how long she'd hated him after that. Years, if the evidence was correct. Probably the rest of her life. It was too late to ask her now.

Adrian placed a spray of purple hyacinth upon the lid of the casket and walked away.


End file.
